Breaking
by Elita1Bashers
Summary: Nobody said being a prisoner was going to be any fun... Megatron/OC.


**Another one... phew. You know, eventually, I'm going to run out of time for all of these. d: So praise Primus that this is supposed to only be a oneshot (that turned into a twoshot because it was needlessly long)... mainly because I don't see where else this story could go. ;D Me continuing this is kinda unlikely. I tried not to go into extensive detail with gore -.-**

**So enjoy what you've got. ;) **

**She is not a Seeker, she is not a Seeker, she is NOT a Seeker. Mmmk? There's a difference between a flier and the over-used Seeker stereotype, or so I'd hope.**

**Question: If I made a blog, I would want followers... obviously, otherwise I just feel like I'm talking to myself. XP Plus it gives me a good way to let readers know what's happening in my life, and maybe possible reasons as to why I'm not updating... other than sheer laziness and writer's block. ;) So would anyone be interested in this? :3**

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Was this what paying her dues were?

'Cause if it was, she reckoned her dues had long since been paid. Hour after hour, month after month, sitting in a Primus-forsaken desert under a scorching sun with nothing but a bunch of chittering Decepticon hatchlings for company? Mmm... certainly not the life the Autobot flier had been expecting when she'd landed on Earth. It almost made her regret leaving the barren planet she'd previously been on, if only because she'd actually had some sembelance of freedom there. Despite the lack of company, it would beat being stranded and flightless any day, with her wings-

_Oh Primus her **wings!**_

Of all the things they could've targeted, there was no need to literally_ rip_ them from her back! A simple severing of the lines that allowed her flight would've sufficed! It would've kept her effectively grounded for however long, and prevented her from escaping them. To grab a hold of them and tear them straight off-! Granted, a normal flier's wings were nowhere near as sensitive as a Seeker's, but it still hurt like the Pit! And _Starscream, _the one Decepticon who could probably sympathise with her situation, had actually been one of the Decepticons to help hold her _down _whilst Megatron did it. Forgive her if she felt a little betrayed that a fellow flier, even if he was a Seeker, hadn't thought to take pity on her. Granted, he was a Decepticon flier, and the Air Commander and Second-in-Command no less. But the point was still implied.

Undoubtedly, the act had been performed to shame and humiliate her. Why just cut a couple of lines, when you could pull the whole damn things off? She'd initially tried not to give them the satisfaction of hearing her scream- no way was she going to give them anything else to be amused about- but that thought had quickly deserted her, along with whatever shreds of her dignity had remained as soon as the first wing had been shredded free. Most prominently, besides from the searing pain and the derrisive laughter from above her, she'd always remembered three words Megatron had growled in her audio receptor before he'd done it.

_"You're mine now."_

She didn't think either Shockwave or Starscream, despite them being there to help hold her down, had heard. The sheer dominance and force behind the quietly-spoken words had been enough to make the flier shudder; though not completely out of digust, she was shamed to admit. Even though it had been followed with the crude dismantling of her most sensitive appendages from her back, she had hung on to those words for the majority of her stay, if only as some kind of reassurance that he had no intentions of killing her... not yet, anway. Asides from watching over and caring for the hatchlings whilst none of the other Decepticons were around, as well as being prevented from screwing up some kind of plan (she hadn't heard it properly, just something about being able to fly across a raised bridge and the risk of her destroying some kind of pillar), she wasn't entirely sure _what_ her use was here, let alone how long it would be until her usefulness to them would run out.

There was a sharp intake of air as she grimaced, reaching a hand behind her to gently pry off one of the hatchlings that had climbed up her back and made the mistake of brushing against the still-sore stubs that were formerly part of her wings. The hatchling chittered and chirped in protest, wriggling in her grasp, and casting a glare over it's shoulder when she finally placed it back down on the ground. The femme hardly had much sympathy for it, though: even if she refused to hurt any of the little things, that didn't mean she would condone them trying to kill eachother. Because there was only one thing that hatchling would've been after.

Shifting slightly, she drew back to reveal the fragile hatchling that she'd been hiding for some time now, sheltering it from the blistering heat of the African sun and the merciless optics of Megatron. If he knew- if he even got the slightest hint- that she was caring for a weak hatchling... there would be Pit to pay. As far as Megatron was concerned, a hatchling like that only had one use left: to be fed to it's kin. She'd seen it before. He wanted no "weak links" in his future army, apparently, and a hatchling that could barely even fend off it's brothers to receive their given fuel... that was definitely a "weak link" in Megatron's optics.

As soon as she'd taken notice of the struggling hatchling, she'd hidden it away, praying that Megatron hadn't noticed it as well. Since then she'd tried to scrounge up whatever nutrients she could- normally giving it her own Energon whenever she received it, and on the occasion trying to sneak some when the other hatchlings were being fed- but even she knew it wasn't enough. It's armour was getting dangerously soft, it barely made any noise anymore, and it's optics were unfocussed and often gazing into space. Logic would have made any other give up and mercifully kill it, but the Autobot did not have the spark for that. She didn't want to be held responsible for it's deactivation, and she was still holding on to the vain hope that it might just make a miraculous recovery, as unlikely as it seemed.

Gently, she touched it with a digit, wishing for some kind of reaction. Much to her dismay, it didn't even blink. Only the dangerously slow and quiet hum of it's systems assured her that it was still alive and- barely- functioning.

Spotting the cloud of dust in the distance that signalled Megatron's approach, she shifted back into her original position, hiding the dying hatchling from sight. No mater how bad of a condition it was in, she would not just hand it over to the tyrant to rip limb from limb and milk the Energon from, just to feed it to it's living and cannibalistic siblings. She may be captured and in Decepticon possession, but she still had her Autobot morals. Whilst she did so, she also hurriedly wiped away the Cybertronian glyphs that she'd written beside her: the ones that spelt out her name. It had become a daily activity for her, if only to stop herself from losing her identity.

Her blue optics were hard and averted as Megatron transformed and approached his little makeshift camp, earning herself a warning growl from the leader as he passed her to get to the hatchlings. Repressing the urge to shiver, the femme figured it was about time to count her lucky stars when the growl wasn't followed by some could of physical abuse. It was always dangerous to openly ignore him in such a way, but it was just her luck that he was more concerned with feeding the hatchlings than punishing a captive Autobot for a brief show of insubordination. Either that, or he was merely going easy on her for her good behaviour as of late, which she rather doubted.

There was excited chirping and angry squabbling as Megatron gave the surviving hatchlings their replacement for Energon, and she swore she heard the sound of metal clashing on metal as two of them tried to shove each other away. Much to her horror, a weak yet high-pitched chirp came from behind her as the smell of the supplement drifted to the offlining hatchling, the Autobot grimacing at how loud it had came out. Hopefully _he_ hadn't noticed...

Her spark gave a nervous twinge when she realised Megatron was watching her disapprovingly.

"Kill it already."

Oh slag, he had heard.

"I-uh-I don't know what you're talking about."

This didn't seem to please him, red optics narrowing, putting aside the fuel and rising to his pedes. The hatchlings gave annoyed chirps as their feeder seemed to have forgotten about them, and was approaching that strange-femme-with-the-blue-optics instead. The Autobot femme would never forget their initial fascination with her, which had now died down seeing as they were used to their presence. Instead, the only reason they now ran to her was for protection (whether from each other or from some kind of Earth creature that had managed to startle them), or because Megatron had thrown another tantrum and they were seeking refuge.

She tensed as Megatron came far too close for comfort, leaning over her to pick up the hatchling she'd attempted to hide. Blue optics squeezed tightly shut as his armour brushed against hers, doing her best to calm her raging spark, and wincing when she heard the painful squeak as the large mech handled it far too roughly for it's liking. When he pulled back, it was dangling from it's leg like a ragdoll, pitifully squealing and squirming to get it's ankle free of the armour-crushing grasp Megatron was holding him with. Fighting away the instinct to lash out at him for causing the little one harm- Megatron always seemed murderous enough without being provoked- she watched the young Transformer regretfully. She'd failed to keep it away from Megatron and, by the sounds of it, he'd known about it's existence for a while.

"If you knew about it, why didn't you say anything?" she asked him softly, looking shameful as she gazed down at her hands.

A moment of tense silence followed. Megatron eventually dropped (dropped! Of all things) the dying hatchling to the desert floor, and the femme instinctively flinched away as his hand cupped her chin and pulled it upwards, forcing her body to follow into a standing position. Her optics met his tentatively, somehat fearful of what she would find there, or any punishment she might be forced to endure for the action.

The optic-contact, however, did not seem to be immediately unwanted. Rather, his thumb stroked the side of her cheek for a brief second, before he stepped over the worthless hatchling and dragged her along behind him. She stumbled for a second, joints feeling stiff from her lack of movement for some time, before she gained her bearings and dutifully followed after him. It took her a minute or two to realise she was being taken to where the healthier hatchlings were, who chirped and chittered excitedly, probably expecting another feed. Vaguely, the Autobot femme wondered if they remembered that it was _her_ Energon they'd lapped up, after she'd been "freed" from the "burden" of her wings. She supposed she should be thankful they hadn't tried eating her.

"Your Autobot morals are ridiculous," he growled, releasing her to seat himself on a pile of junk, which squealed in protest underneath his weight, "but amusing. For a while."

"So you let me keep it for your own entertainment?" she asked, sounding dubious, shuffling her feet uncomfortably and keeping her gaze firmly fixated down on them.

A hatchling crawled out from the shade of it's barrel, from whence it had been hiding from the burning heat, and pawed at the femme's legs. She twitched; normally, if Megatron weren't here, she wouldn't have hesitated to pick the thing up. Something he would undoubtedly frown upon, and label her as being a typical, soft-sparked Autobot. Then he'd tell her to put it back down because it was teaching it to be "weak" and dependant on others. That's what she expected to happen, anyway. Megatron could surprise her some times.

"Why not?" Megatron snorted, watching the pouting hatchling, who didn't seem to like being ignored. "It was going to die anyway. Don't think I didn't notice your laughable attempts at keeping it concealed, or how you were suffering from a lack of Energon." Then, with a slightly more frustrated air, he gestured to the pouting hatchling angrily and said, "Pick the thing up, will you?"

Not wishing to anger him, she quickly did so, lifting it up in her arms. She swore she heard the hatchling purr in satisfaction, climbing it's way from there up and onto her shoulder, where it began to playfully gnaw on her helm. Jerking her head away, not wishing to teach it bad habits (she didn't want to find, one morning, that she had a hole in the side of her head because the hatchling had got a bit too enthusiastic about biting things), she turned back to Megatron with her arms folded over her chestplate. One day, she was going to get out of here, and take all the hatchlings with her so that they could be raised properly.

"If I knew it amused you so, I would've done it sooner," she shot back, glaring at him.

His optics narrowed, and she got the vague feeling she was going to pay for that.

"Kill it."

"Excuse me?" she demanded, optics blinking in shock. Surely she had misheard?

"You heard me."

"Why would I kill what I've tried so long to protect?"

"What you've _failed_ to protect. Either you can kill it," His hand closed to a form a fist, and he squeezed it tightly in show of what he would do, "or I will."

She hesitated, optics raking over him, as if trying to figure out whether or not he was kidding. He didn't think-? But, yes. Obviously he did. And it was either she did the deed, or Megatron did, undoubtedly in the most painful way possible just to spit her. With a mournful noise, she gently removed the hatchling off her shoulder, placing it on the ground and reluctantly making her way to the dying one across the camp. Maybe, maybe she could just pretend to do it, and do a better job at hiding it this time... how could he expect her to just stand up and kill a defenceless hatchling? She was no Decepticon, as he so loved to point out whenever he got the oppurtunity.

Crouching over the almost-lifeless shell, the tips of her digits barely grazing over it's squishy armour, she felt her spark well up in sympathy. In a last ditch effort to reason with the sparkless mech, she glanced over her shoulder, optics pleading. "Please, Megatron..."

"Hurry up," he ordered, red optics glittering with some kind of sick satisfaction at what he was making her do. "And it's _Lord _to you, Autobot."

It probably wasn't wise to make a retort to that last comment, and she bit her glossa just to make sure it wasn't tempted to. Cycling air through her vents, looking remorseful, she wrapped her hand around it's small form. It squealed and weakly tried to wriggle out of her hold as she put too much pressure on it's chestplates with her thumb, right above it's spark chamber. This was followed by an even higher-pitched squeal as her thumb finally broke through the armour, crushing the tiny chamber underneath, and effectively snuffing it's spark. A pleased growl rippled through the air, coming from the direction of Megatron, as the hatchling fell limp in her hands. Disgusted, she made to release it, but Megatron's next order stopped her.

"Bring it here."

Sighing, she slowly raised herself into a standing position, and approached Megatron- deactivated hatchling in hand. One question played on her processor: how long until Megatron did the same to her?

She flinched when, as soon as she was within range, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a sitting position between his legs, back struts pressed up against the pile of junk he was seated on. His hand trailed gently up her arm, doing so almost mockingly in the replica of a lover's caress, coming to rest on the hand that was still gripping the hatchling. His tactics changed there, roughly forcing it from her grasp, before holding it to it's remaining kin. They were on the carcass in a flash: pulling it's limbs clean off to get to the Energon beneath, occasionally squabbling amongst themselves. The femme pointedly turned away from the gruesome sight, sickened slightly that the Decepticons had taught the innocent hatchlings to behave in such a way.

It took some time for the hatchlings to settle down again, most of them returning to their hideouts as the sun sunk in the sky, a couple of others opting to curl up against their two protectors. As a general rule, they knew not to get too comfy up against Megatron, but the Autobot femme seemed to be fair game. They pushed themselves into any part of her body that they could, some settling for the warmth her chestplate offered from her spark, whilst others cradled themselves in the joint of her elbow. Whilst not completely comfortable for the femme, it was tolerable, if only because it was a cute sight and only three or four of them did it at a time.

She supressed a shudder as Megatron shifted behind her, legs scraping against her side in not an entirely unpleasant manner, but the femme was quick to scrap such thoughts the moment they surfaced. Affection for her captor was going to get her nowhere, apart from in trouble. And the notion that these "affections" were actually returned? Ridiculous. Most likely, she was just displaying early symptoms of Stockholm Syndrome, or whatever the humans liked to call it. Could one blame her, after being locked up in a place like this for so long?

"Do you mind?" she grumbled, casting a slightly annoyed look over her shoulder at him. The less contact with him, the better. It made her systems react in a way she _really_ didn't like.

His red optics narrowed dangerously; a sign, normally, that you were about to get hit- hard. Tonight, however, that did not seem to be the case. Primus, what had put him in such a good mood? Whatever it was, it couldn't be good for the Autobots.

"Mmm... you're heating up, little one," Megatron snickered in her audio receptor, her stiffening as his hands teasingly trailed down her body, spark leaping in surprise in it's chamber. "Is there something I should know about?"

_He's just teasing, he's just teasing you, _she told herself, optics closing in an effort to help her dwindling self-control, _Don't react, he's just teasing, and it'll only make it worse._

But Primus, she was heating up, wasn't she? And it had nothing to do with the sun, which had already sunk will below the horizon, casting it's last faint tendrils of light across the evening sky. Why was she so easily embarrassed? She made an attempt to shuffle away from the mech to avoid further reactions, but he reacted instantly, claws jamming into the gaps into her armour and digging into the hidden wires located beneath. A surprised gasp slipped past her lips, which Megatron caught wind of judging by his amused growl. Submissively, as his claws began to sink in deeper, the femme scooted back into the position she was originally in, and only then did the warlord's grip return to normal.

"Nothing you'd want to hear," she growled, a tinge of frustration entering her voice, although it was directed more at herself than the warlord.

Megatron let out a husky chuckle- the kind that never failed to put her denta on edge. Before she had time to think or process what was about to happen, sharp digits had a vice-like grip on her chin, crushing the metal and wrenching her head up to look him in the optics at the same time. His other arm was suddenly locked around her middle, holding her in place, but also pushing down so that it mangled the armour protecting her abdomen in a way that was far from painless. Instinctual reactions set in, and the femme bucked in his grasp, trying to get away. A noise that was crossed between a high-pitched squeak and a shriek accidentally escaped her as well, but didn't go too far before she remembered how to close her mouth.

The hatchlings scattered, chittering and hissing in outrage at being disturbed from their resting place. There was a sickening _crunch_ as one of them trampled over the remains of their deceased peer that they had formerly been ripping apart. The femme didn't have time to ponder on her feelings of disgust, however. Megatron was still crumpling armour in his unfairly strong grip, his digits peircing into any energon lines that he could reach. For a single disturbing moment, she had a flashback to him using those same digits and strength to tear her wings from her back. A memory she didn't particularly want to relive.

"We seem to be having some disciplinary problems around here... wouldn't you agree, _femme?"_

She grimaced in his strengthening hold, trying to shake her head in disagreement, nod, anything! Her weak attempts merely stoked the flames of his ego, however, and with a slightly smug smirk he increased the pressure tenfold. The former flier could feel her pride collapsing, and her desperate need to escape the pain taking over. It sliced through her systems with each pulse of her spark, feeling as though it was destroying her from the inside out, and she didn't know how much more she could take or how much longer she could put up with it. It was hopeless. Megatron would win this battle. They both knew it. The desperation was quick to take over as it brought back more memories of the removal of her wings, and at last she began making her pleas, trying to find the right words to say to get him to stop.

"Ah, please, Master," she begged, voice caught between a whimper and a shriek, "I'll behave, I swear, I'm sorry-"

Megatron gave a derrisive snort at that, though to the femme's relief the arm around her abdomen was removed regardless. A rush of air passed through her lips in a mockery of a human's sigh, although she wasn't complete out of trouble yet. The hand under her chin still remained, which was potentially more of a threat to her than the other arm had been. She watched the warmonger warily, almost fearfully, as if afraid of his intentions. It wasn't an accident that it hadn't been moved. She knew from experience now that everything he did, he did for a reason. There were no mere coincidences around these parts.

His digits gave a slight twitch; her entire body almost jolted in response. A sneer brimming with snide contempt settled on Megatron's features, and his hands altered their positions to cup either side of her face, though still squeezing unnecessarily hard. She winced, her spark pounding, waiting for it to be over. Surely he wouldn't kill her now? What was the point of keeping her around for so long, using up their stock of Energon, when they could have killed her months ago? Either the Decepticons were a lot dumber than she anticipated, or she was serving some kind of unknown higher purpose. In a way, she was hoping it was the former. She really didn't want to be used as an unwilling and unknowing pawn in the Decepticons' game. Especially not when it could bring harm to the Autobots.

"If only my brother could see you now," Megatron sneered, a sadistic edge to his voice. His grip tightened, claw-like digits scratching the sides of her helm, a dangerous warning of just what he could do to her. "To see such an 'honourable' Autobot, cowering at my mercy..."

The femme didn't protest. She didn't deny it. How could she deny it? It was the truth. The complete and utter truth. She knew she was a coward, knew she wasn't as brave or courageous or intelligent as the others. If she was, she would have been out of the camp by now. Or at least made an attempt at it- escape, or die trying. That would be the motto the other Autobots would follow. The motto she could've followed as well, if she wasn't so desperate NOT to have her life ended.

The digits gave a small squeeze of warning, and she hurriedly forced her stunned vocal processors into action.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry," she stuttered out, processor reeling as it desperately hunted through its databanks for the right words... but none came.

"Are you going to behave, little femme?" he purred in a dangerous voice, lips pulled back to display his sharpened denta.

Her spark almost skipped a beat at the sight. That look... that display was commonly used during courting rituals, when two mechs desired the same femme. She wasn't sure why it seemed to effect her now, or even if it meant anything. But she shouldn't look into it. Shouldn't distract herself. Megatron was an enemy. He was evil. Savage. An influential mind. A tyrannical but effective leader. Whatever her spark was deluded into thinking it desired, whatever her femme programming recognised as a sign of its purpose, couldn't have an influence on her thoughts. She had to stay focussed. She had to remember. Everything that had, still was, worth fighting for. Just because she was captured. Just because her life was on the line. It changed nothing. Countless bodies had fallen before her.

It. Changed. Nothing.

"I..."

This was a war! Why was it so hard, so _difficult, _to remember that? The femme herself was nothing but a pawn in this war. A playing peice, destined to go nowhere, but sacrifice herself for the greater good. Lay down her life for her superiors, so that they could pave the way to victory. Even if the road there was lined with innumberable bodies of the innocent... she would gladly join them.

...Wouldn't she?

"I... Make me." she spat in his faceplate, optics narrowing and steeling in a challenging gaze, face melding from one of doubt to one of determination.

She would _not _be intimidated by mere shows of violence! She would not _behave _for the vicious leader of the Decepticons, let alone make anything easy for him! He was the _reason _their planet was destroyed! He had murdered so many! Destroyed cities! Taken lives that weren't his to take! Why? Why should she obey the mech, who's digits were stained with the Energon of so many. So many innocent. So many, who hadn't even _tried _to fight back. They had been powerless. And he'd squashed them. Like bugs.

His optics flashed in anger at being denied, and for the briefest of seconds, a trickle of regret leaked into her stubborn spark. This wasn't going to be good.

Her immediate thought was to get as far away as possible from the imminent threat, and that was supported by a weak shove as she tried to tear herself out of his grasp. Megatron didn't do so much as budge. In fact, the only thing it did seem to acheive was to aggravate him more, and the pressure on her helm seemed to sharply increase before abruptly disappearing. She sat still for a minute, confused by the lack of pressure, before letting out a pitiful cry as a fist connected with the side of her helm. Her energon-starved body flew sideways into the dirt, stabilizers scrambled, leaving her dazed and confused.

Despite the ringing in her audio receptors, the sound of approaching footsteps in the distance still registered. And though it sounded far off, common sense still told her that logically her assailant was much, much closer.

In a deperate bid to escape, she reached out with one hand to try and find some kind of purchase on the ground to help her, making an attempt to pull herself upwards at the same time. It was a mistake. Another painful cry escaped her as a foot slammed down onto her harm with unnecessary force, effectively crushing everything in there- splitting energon lines and important wires. Her slow and sluggish movements were no match for Megatron's primed body, and she weakly thrashed on the ground from the pain and damage he was inflicting on her. The pressure was finally released off her arm, only for his foot to connect with her side.

She travelled another couple of metres, a sickening _crunch _barely audible over the squeal of denting metal as she landed on her shoulder wrong. Something wet seemed to be leaking from pretty much _everywhere_, and the Autobot femme knew she was losing a lot of Energon. Too much. She was energon-starved enough already, it wouldn't take long before she eventually bled dry of it all together.

_So this is how it ends._

She forced her optics closed at the sound of Megatron's approaching footsteps, spark thundering in her chamber as it joined her in the realisation. She could only pray that it would be swift, or the loss of Energon would force her into shut down first...


End file.
